


Broken Promises

by sir_mrs_billycrystal



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_mrs_billycrystal/pseuds/sir_mrs_billycrystal
Summary: When Jim Gordon makes an unforgivable mistake, Oswald Cobblepot breaks.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, a little explanation: Basically, this is set during season 4, with canon divergence. I hope you enjoy reading :)

**Prologue**

Harvey Bullock had seen more dead bodies in his life than he cared to mention. He had seen it all: gaping holes where someone‘s face used to be, eyes wide open in terror, organs hanging out of torn-apart bodies and everything in between. But as he crouched over this particular body, lying lifeless on the highway, he felt his heart clench painfully. It wasn‘t just the fact that it was a kid, he had seen plenty of those before. It was just the way his eyes stared at him without seeing, the way the blood flowed from the bullet wound in his temple, the way his small hands gripped the little notepad around his neck. With a gloved hand, Harvey picked up the notepad and looked at the first page. Written in small and neat letters, the sentence made his heart clench once again.

_I don‘t want to leave you._

He stood up from the ground with a sigh, removing his gloves and taking a generous sip from his flask. The youngest ones always hit the hardest.

“When are you gonna tell him?” he turned to his colleague. For a while, Jim didn’t answer. He simply stared down at the asphalt underneath his shoes, painted crimson with blood.  

“Tonight.” Jim finally decided. “He’ll find out soon enough.  It’s better if he hears it from me.”

“Are you going there alone?”

Penguin was unpredictable on a good day, but this… there was no way of predicting how he’d react.

“Yeah. I’ve got this.” Jim replied.

_You idiot,_ Harvey thought, but he knew it was pointless arguing with him.

He noticed Lee Thompkins approaching them. Sofia Falcone‘s blood and brain matter were splattered over her blue coat, which she enveloped around her body to shield herself from the cold evening air.

“They’re taking the bodies to the morgue.” she announced. A small nod from Jim caused her to look at her ex-boyfriend with worry. “Are you okay?”

“I have to go see Penguin.” he said, walking away from them. Harvey and Lee watched him as he got into his car and drove away.

“Are you sure it’s wise for him to go there alone?” Lee’s question broke the silence and hung heavy in the air.

“No,” Harvey simply replied, taking another sip from his flask.

 

* * *

 

Detective James Gordon loved his job. He loved the satisfaction that came with knowing that justice had been served, and that he had been a part of that. He loved the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins whenever he ran in pursuit of a fleeing criminal. But on that particular day, he felt like a failure. He felt foolish for allowing Sofia to get into his head like that. He felt tired and lightheaded from the punches he‘d received. But most of all, he felt ashamed. He had sworn to protect the kid, as a favor to the most powerful man in Gotham. And he had failed so horrendously, he wouldn‘t be surprised if Oswald killed him on the spot.

Jim sat in the middle of the room, waiting for the guards to return with Arkham‘s newest prisoner. Dread radiated through his body when he heard a loud buzzing noice, followed by the screech of metal against metal as the door opened. Jim forced himself to look up at the man entering the room, he figured he owed him that, at least.

Oswald had been in Arkham for four days, as part of their plan, and he was already a few pounds lighter. His hollow, pale cheeks and the purple bags under his eyes made him almost look sick. His eyes were wide in anticipation, desperate to hear that the plan had worked. The guards let go of his frail shoulders and left the room, leaving Jim alone with him.

“Did it work?” Oswald asked as he stumbled into the seat opposite Jim. “Is he safe?”

One look at Jim’s woeful expression made his blood run cold.

“Jim?” his whisper felt loud in the heavy silence. Jim let out a deep sigh before he began.

“We were ambushed. Sofia Falcone was there.” He gulped loudly before continuing. “She held a gun to him…”

“Shut up.” The tremor in Oswald’s voice made Jim look up. His pale eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“I’m afraid he died before the ambulance got here. We did everything we could.”

Oswald shook his head, his lips tightened in a thin line.

“No.” he said pointedly, “No. You’re lying.”

Jim moved to place his hand on Oswald’s shoulder, but his hand was shoved away.

“Oswald…”

“You…” his eyes were closed, his jaw set. “You said that you would keep him safe!” Oswald’s voice broke at the last word. Pressing his fingernails into his palms, he took a deep breath before he opened his eyes, facing the man who had betrayed him so cruelly.

“Get out.” he ordered. His face showed no emotion apart from the anguish in his eyes. Jim sighed in defeat and left. As he was led down the long corridor, he could hear the echoes of Oswald’s broken sobs. He loosened the tie around his neck, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe properly. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He needed to get out.

He sighed in relief when he was met with fresh air as he exited the building. Cold rain was already soaking through his suit, sending shivers down his spine. Feeling exhaustion wash over him, he stumbled into his car and closed his eyes. Through the raindrops falling onto the windshield, he could still hear Oswald’s heartbroken weeps. Behind his closed eyelids, he could still see the look of betrayal and unimaginable pain in his eyes. He was sure it would haunt his dreams for years to come.

He buried his face in his hands and finally allowed himself to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Penguin sat rigidly on his cot, the sun casting a shadow on his floor through the window bars. His striped prison clothes hung loosely on his body and his dark hair fell into his eyes. With slow, heavy movements, he turned his head from the nurse holding the spoon in front of his mouth.

“Mr. Cobblepot,” she beseeched. “You need to eat.” The nurse let out a frustrated sigh when no reply came. She put the spoon down onto the tray and picked it up, exiting the cell and leaving him alone with his thoughts. Oswald had never liked oatmeal, anyway.

He remembered sitting by the small kitchen table as a child, his short feet dangling off the chair and his lips pursed, refusing to ingest his oatmeal.

“Oswald, you need to eat.” she had said. “So that you can be a big, strong boy!” She always used to poke his stomach lightly, making him giggle. It was one of Oswald’s first memories, and one of the only good ones he had.

Another memory emerged, a more recent one. One where Oswald had been the parent, sitting next to a young boy at another kitchen table. The boy’s feet had dangled off the chair and his lips had been pursed in refusal to eat.

“Martin,” Oswald had pleaded. “you need to eat your oatmeal.” Just as his own mother had done, he’d poked Martin’s stomach, making him giggle.

Tears rolled down Oswald’s cheeks and fell into his lap. Two of his most cherished memories now felt like daggers in his heart.

A soft thud on the floor brought Oswald back to reality. He looked up to see a rolled-up newspaper. His joints cracking from stiffness, he limped towards the newspaper and picked it up. One look at the front page of _The Gotham Gazette_ made his blood boil.He felt white-hot anger seizing his wretched heart, his knuckles turning white as the paper crumpled underneath his touch. Jim Gordon, with his complacent smirk, looked up at Penguin’s hateful sneer. He was shaking the mayor’s hand, the headline reading:

**Detective James Gordon granted ‘Citizen of the Year’ award.**

_Detective James Gordon of the G.C.P.D. has been granted the mayor’s ‘Citizen of the Year’ award for his bravery and selflessness in his line of work. Last week, he and a team of officers put their lives in danger while bringing down criminal mastermind, Oswald Cobblepot, a.k.a. The Penguin. Cobblepot is still awaiting trial at Arkham Asylum._

The paper was ripped to shreds in Oswald’s hands. Pure, unstoppable rage made his blood boil, taking over every cell in his body. His whole body shook, his nostrils flared, and his teeth clenched. His hands flew up to his head, fingers digging into his scalp and pulling at his hair. His screams echoed through the halls of Arkham Asylum.

* * *

 

Jim Gordon was jostled from his daydream when he felt something smack against his face. His eyes shot open to see Harvey Bullock holding yesterday’s paper in front of him, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Wakey, wakey.” He mocked, his sing-song voice reverberating through the hall. Jim snatched the paper from his colleague’s hands and threw it in the nearest bin, eliciting a snicker from Harvey.

“Hey, don’t get your panties in a twist, partner.” Harvey said. “You should be proud of yourself. You deserve it.” Jim jumped from his seat and looked at Harvey.

“Do I?” he asked loudly. He could see officers turning their heads towards them.

Harvey took Jim’s arm and pulled him out of the great hall and into the men’s locker room. Jim sat down on a bench, Harvey looking down at him with a displeased look.

“What makes you think you don’t deserve this?” he asked, arms crossed against his chest. He already knew the answer, but Jim needed to get it out of his system.

“Did you even read what they said?” he expressed. “They make it sound like Oswald didn’t go to Arkham willingly.”

“Yeah,” Harvey quipped. “That was the plan, remember? So that Sofia would think she had the upper hand.” Jim took a deep breath, annoyed.

“Do you think Penguin cares about the plan, right now?” he raised his voice. “After what happened, do you honestly think he cares about that?”

“Listen, Jim,” Harvey felt his own voice raise to match Jim’s. “Penguin knew what he was getting himself into. He made his own choice, and now he has to deal with the consequences.”

Jim rose to his feet, standing toe-to-toe opposite him.

“He trusted us, Harvey!” he shouted. “He trusted _me_ to keep him safe and I couldn’t! His son is dead because of me!”

Silence filled the room, both men breathing heavily.

“Jim,” Harvey’s voice was quiet. “you need to listen very carefully right now. You did _not_ kill that boy.”

Jim let out a shaky breath.

“Then why does it feel like I did?” he whispered. He let himself slide down to the floor, pressing his back against the lockers.

“Listen.” Harvey said as he crouched down in front of him. “I know you blame yourself. I know how you feel, and it sucks. It really fucking sucks.”

He placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“But you can’t let it beat you down, partner.” He heard a sniffle from Jim, who had placed his hand on his forearm.

They both looked up when the door was thrown open and Captain Nathaniel Barnes stormed in. His eyebrows were drawn together in an ireful expression and his lips formed a thin line.

“Son of a bitch!” His booming voice echoed through the room. Jim and Harvey stood up straight, facing their boss.

“Captain?” Jim proceeded with caution.

“It’s Penguin.” Barnes announced. “He’s been released from Arkham.”

* * *

 

“How the hell did he get out?” Harvey demanded. The two detectives stood with Captain Barnes in his office, discussing the next course of action.

“It doesn’t matter how he got out.” Jim retorted. “What matters is how we’re going to get him back in there.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” Captain Barnes questioned. “We don’t have any real evidence on him. His arrest was a set-up, he hasn’t done anything.”

“Hasn’t done anything?” Jim exclaimed. “He’s a criminal! He controls all of Gotham’s underworld.”

“Do you think that’s all he owns?” Barnes questioned. “Who do you think gave the orders on his release? Penguin has the Commissioner wrapped around his pinkie! And if we go against the Commissioner's orders, we could all lose our jobs!”

The room fell silent for a moment.

“The Captain is right, Jim.” Harvey said suddenly. “I mean, Penguin’s a smart guy. We’re not gonna take him down unless we have some rock-solid evidence against him.”

“Then we find some evidence.” Jim strategized. “He’s vulnerable right now. He’s bound to make a mistake, sooner or later.”

“He’s _unpredictable._ ” Barnes corrected. “And that makes him dangerous.” Barnes fully turned himself to Jim.

“You need to be careful, Jim.” he warned. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Barnes said. The door opened and Lee Thompkins stepped inside. Her long coat swirled as she moved closer to the three men with a determined look on her face.

“Captain Barnes,” she greeted. “Good to see that you’ve recovered well.”

Lee had been the one to find Barnes a few months prior, wreaking havoc in the Narrows. After a dose of the antidote for the Tetch virus and weeks of intense therapy, Barnes was now considered to be cured. They’d barely had a chance to meet since.

“Thank you, Doctor Thompkins.” Barnes said politely, but he couldn't hide the impatience in his voice. “But we’re kind of…”

“I think something’s happened to Ed.” she interrupted, making all eyes point to her.

“Ed?” Harvey asked. “Ed Nygma? I thought you two were joined at the hip.”

Lee cast him a venomous glare before turning her attention to Jim.

“I can’t find him.” she said. “And I know that Penguin’s been let out. That’s not a coincidence, you know it’s not.”

Jim couldn’t help but agree. And it worried him.

“Lee,” he said, choosing his next words carefully. “Do you know if Ed went to see Penguin at Arkham?”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“Ed did not help Penguin get out of Arkham.” she demanded.

“What makes you so sure?” Jim asked back.

“Because they _hate_ each other.” she replied. Her face turned grim all of a sudden. She put her hand into her coat pocket.

“There’s also this.” she said as she pulled out a plastic bag and placed it on Barnes’ desk. Jim picked it up and examined the contents. Inside, there was a pair of broken glasses, smeared with blood. One glass had a large crack down its middle, the other one had completely fallen out of its frame.

He looked from the glasses to Lee, whose face was filled with contempt.

“Still think he had something to do with it?” she quipped.

Jim didn’t have a chance to respond before the door was flung open and a flustered woman in a police uniform came storming in.

“She’s gone!” she exclaimed. “She’s not here, anymore!”

“Who?” the four people asked simultaneously.

“Sofia Falcone’s body! It’s gone!”

Stunned silence flooded the room and everyone stood frozen. Jim could barely even comprehend what was happening. In the span of an hour, Penguin had been released from Arkham, Edward Nygma had apparently gone missing and Sofia Falcone’s dead body had been stolen from the G.C.P.D.’s own morgue. Only in Gotham.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, kudosed and commented on my last chaper. I really appreciate it :)


	3. Chapter 3

The moment they realized Sofia Falcone’s body was gone, Edward Nygma was declared missing. Unable to ignore the connections, Captain Barnes agreed that Penguin was their prime suspect. Subsequently, Jim and Harvey were assigned to the seemingly impossible task of taking down The Penguin. But, as suspected, he was keeping a low profile, making the Iceberg Lounge and the rest of his vast empire his top priority. He kept quiet, too quiet for their liking.

A week later, Commissioner Reynolds gave the orders that the investigation on Nygma’s disappearance be dropped. He wouldn’t even give them a reason for it. Afraid of losing their jobs, Barnes, Jim and Harvey couldn’t do anything but obey. Penguin was planning something, Jim knew it. He just didn’t know what, and it made him feel uneasy. He felt as if he was playing a game of chess, with his opponent thinking three steps ahead of him. And so, even though he wasn’t supposed to, Jim kept the investigation going in secret.

It was now more than three weeks since Nygma seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving only his broken glasses behind, and Jim was growing anxious. He had searched everywhere: every warehouse, every alley, every damn dumpster and Nygma was, simply, nowhere to be found.

Jim couldn’t remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep. The missing pieces of the puzzle kept him awake at night and plagued his thoughts every waking moment. He hadn’t been to his apartment in almost two weeks. He shuddered at the thought of having to go there and deal with the filth that was, inevitably, taking over his apartment.

“Forget it, Jim.” Harvey chimed as he ripped Nygma’s case file from Jim’s hands and threw it into a desk drawer. They could not risk Barnes seeing what they were doing behind his back.

“Nygma’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere. You need to get over it and move on.”

“You don’t know that, Harvey.” Jim argued. “As long as there’s no body, I have to presume that he’s still alive out there.”

“Why do you even care so much?” Harvey asked. “I mean, he wasn’t exactly a ‘model citizen’, if I remember correctly.”

“Lee cares about him.” Jim defended.

“No, this is more than just some lovey-dovey bullshit, Jim.” Harvey argued, pointing an accusing finger at him. Jim’s silence only confirmed his suspicions.

“Look, I don’t know what is going on with you, but now is not the time.” he warned. “Not when Barnes, and now the Commissioner, are breathing down our necks.”

Jim didn’t have a chance to argue, for he saw, in the corner of his eye, the Queen of the Narrows entering the main hall of the G.C.P.D.

Lee’s dark hair framed her grave face, moving back and forth as she walked across the hall and up the stairs towards them.

“Anything?” she asked, not even bothering to greet them.

Jim shook his head, conveying sympathy into his gesture.

“Afraid not.” he admitted. “Ed is nowhere to be found and Penguin’s been keeping his head down.” Lee let out a frustrated groan.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t go and talk to him.” she said accusingly.

“It’s not that simple, Lee.” Harvey explained. “We can’t just walk up to him and accuse him of kidnapping.”

“Oh, please.” Lee scoffed. “We know he’s behind this. I mean, the day he’s released from Arkham, his archnemesis _and_ the body of the woman who killed his son go missing?  Just a few weeks ago, you basically had to be held back from arresting Penguin. And now, when you might actually have something, you back off?”

“Did I stutter?” Harvey was growing impatient. “It’s not that simple. The Commissioner gave us very clear orders.”

“When did you become so obsessed with ‘following orders’?” she challenged.

“We. Don’t. Have. Anything.” Harvey said through clenched teeth. “We don’t even have a body.”

Before their argument could be unfolded even more, they were approached by Bruce Wayne, with his butler, Alfred Pennyworth, following close behind. Alfred was carrying a small cardboard box in his gloved hands. A distressed look covered both of their faces.

“Bruce.” Jim greeted, grateful for the distraction. “Can I help you?”

“I hope you can.” Bruce replied.

“This came with the post today.” Alfred explained, presenting the box to Jim. “I think you need to have a look inside.”

Jim cast his eyes from the box, across the faces surrounding him, curiosity in some faces, concern in others.

“Follow me.” He led the group into a free interrogation room, closing the door behind him. He placed the box on the table before opening it, slowly. Everyone leaned in to examine the contents of the box, resulting in a gasp from Lee and a swear word from Harvey. Buried underneath the purple crêpe paper was a severed finger, with partially decomposed tissue hanging off its bones. A silver ring with a question mark lay beside the finger. They all knew it had to be Edward Nygma’s finger.

Jim didn’t understand. Why would Penguin kidnap Nygma, torture him, cut off his finger and send it to Bruce Wayne, of all people?

After recovering from the initial shock and confusion, Jim noticed the champagne-colored piece of paper hidden at the bottom of the box. He pulled it out and read out loud. The letters were written in messy handwriting, red blood and ebony ink dotting the paper.

  _Lighter than what I am made of,_

_more of me is hidden than is seen._

_What am I?_

He glanced around the room, seeing everyone’s brows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and deep thought.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Harvey wondered aloud.

A long time passed until Bruce’s young voice broke the silence:

“An iceberg.”

Realization dawned on Jim as he stared at the young boy. He could have hugged him there and then.

_We’ve got him,_ he thought. 

* * *

 

Jim climbed the steps of the Iceberg Lounge, with two henchmen on his sides. He glanced up at the crystal chandelier, casting a sparkling light onto the dark staircase. He couldn’t help but be a little impressed with the design of it all, how the lights danced with the dark interior so effortlessly. One of the henchmen knocked on the dark, wooden door, which was shortly followed by a “Come in!” from the other side. The man opened the door and Jim was ushered inside Penguin’s office. The smells of teak, leather and brandy all meshed together in one aroma which filled Jim’s nostrils. The dark room was only lit by the natural light coming through the big round window behind Penguin’s desk. Penguin sat slumped in his chair, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. His brows were furrowed in deep thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and sucked in a deep breath. Grey smoke emitted through the room with his exhale.

“Oswald.” Jim greeted. His voice made Oswald look up. He put out the cigarette in a crystal ashtray and gave him a tight smile.

“Jim Gordon.” he greeted. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He gestured to Jim, offering him the seat on the opposite side of the desk.

“We need to talk.” Jim said bluntly as he sat down. Even though he sounded authoritative, his heart was hammering in his chest. Penguin eyed him curiously.

“Edward Nygma’s been missing for three weeks.”

“And you managed for three whole weeks before coming to me?” Penguin said, mockery laced in his voice. “My, my, I am impressed.”

Penguin’s lips twisted into a sneer as he snickered. Jim tried his best to hide his ever-growing annoyance.

“But, then again, I guess I should thank you.” he continued. Jim furrowed his brows in confusion. Penguin’s sneer twisted into a scowl as he placed his glass harshly on the mahogany desk.

“At least you waited until after the funeral.”

Jim had to restrain himself from physically recoiling after hearing Oswald say this. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed for not remembering. He should have noticed that Oswald’s suit was even more formal than usual, all black. He should have noticed the red hue and the dried tear tracks on Oswald’s cheeks. He stifled his guilt and forced himself into his professional mindset.

“What did you do to Edward Nygma?” he questioned. He knew he was being harsh, almost cruel, interrogating a grieving man. But somehow, he felt as if he was running out of time, like he didn’t have time for sympathy.

Oswald let out a tired sigh before asking pointedly:

“And why would I want to kidnap Edward Nygma?”

“He tried to kill you.” Jim explained. “I’d say that’s good enough of a reason.”

“And I froze him in a block of ice.” Penguin pointed out. “So, I’d say we’re even. Besides, I don’t really think that logic would do much in court.”

His smug grin returned, much to Jim’s frustration. Jim let the box he was holding drop onto the desk between them.

The two henchmen, who hadn’t taken their eyes off Jim the whole time, moved to interfere but were stopped by Penguin raising his hand. He furrowed his brows while he slowly opened the box, examining its contents.

“It’s Edward Nygma’s finger.” Jim explained.

“Yes, I can see that.” Penguin shot back, not looking away from the finger. Finally, he turned his gaze to Jim, placing his interlaced hands underneath his chin.

“And why are you bringing this to me?” he inquired with feigned interest.

“I think _this_ could be used against you in court.” Jim stated.

“Why do you want me to go to prison so badly, Jim?” Oswald asked. Beneath his poised demeanor, he was starting to get irritated.

“Answer the question, Oswald.” Jim pressed. “What have you done with Nygma?  And why did you send this to Bruce Wayne.”

When Oswald didn’t reply, he slammed his hand hard on the desk.

“Answer me! Or I swear to God, I’ll drag you back to Arkham!”

Oswald seemed unfazed by the threat, scornful eyes meeting Jim’s.

“Wow.” he said, feigning surprise. “You really want to see me in prison, Jim. Were the other two times not enough for you?”

“Those were more of a favor.” Jim said, regretting it immediately as he saw Oswald’s eyes narrowing.

Before Jim could form a full thought, he felt Oswald’s hands gripping the labels of his suit and pulling him towards him, their faces mere inches apart.

“Well, I am done with doing favors for you!” he spat. “I am done with trusting you!”

“You did, once.” Jim said quietly. He saw Penguin’s eyes growing dark before he got even closer to whisper in his ear.

“That was,” he whispered. “before you betrayed my trust by fucking a Falcone.”

Jim felt his heart sink to his stomach. _How did he know about that?_

“Oh, you thought I wouldn’t find out?” Penguin hissed. “You really thought you could hide that from _me_?”

He pushed Jim away from him before slumping back in his chair, a hurt look in his eyes.

“I knew she was using you,” he admitted. “But I never imagined you could be so blind.”

Jim didn’t dare say anything. He should have known that Oswald would find out. He did know, however, that if he arrested Oswald, he would not keep quiet. Everyone would learn about the true nature of Jim’s relationship with Sofia.  In mere seconds, Oswald had managed to turn the tables so that Jim was, once again, in his clutches.

Oswald didn’t look triumphant, however. He just looked tired. He let out an exasperated sigh as he pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Oswald said, seemingly more to himself. After a short while, he looked up.

“Get out.” he demanded, waving his hand towards the door. “Before I change my mind.”

Jim stood up and leaned across the desk, staring Penguin in the eyes.

“I know you did something to Ed, Oswald.” he said, in one last attempt to break him. “And I’m gonna find out what and why.”

Penguin met his gaze with overwhelming intensity, a low chuckle forming deep in his throat.

“You’re welcome to try.” he challenged.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! A part of this chapter is pretty gory, so...enjoy (I guess)!

“So, let me get this straight.” Captain Barnes exclaimed. “Bruce Wayne shows up with a severed finger. And instead of treating it as evidence, and without telling me about it, you go to Penguin – alone – with said evidence? Am I understanding this correctly?”

“Yes, sir.” Jim stood straight in front of Barnes’ desk. He had been standing there for almost an hour, trying to explain himself. In hindsight, Jim knew he had made a mistake by going to Penguin. He had been waiting and hoping for _anything_ he could use against him for weeks. And so, when he finally got what he wanted, he simply didn’t think. But, of course, it led to him walking right into Penguin’s claws, trapping him.

Barnes simply gaped at the simple reply.

“Have you completely lost your mind, Gordon?” he cried. He stood up from his chair and placed his clenched fists on top of the desk.

“No, sir.” Jim said. “I just…”

“You tampered with evidence, Gordon! How is that not idiotic to you?” Barnes was fuming, the blood vessels in his temples threatened to burst from his wrath.

“How do you even know that it’s Nygma’s finger? You didn’t even have the sense to send it to Forensics first for identification!”

“It’s Nygma’s.” Jim stated. “I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, well. That settles it, then.” Barnes said ironically.

He sighed tiredly and sat back down in his seat. He looked at Jim and simply shook his head in disbelief.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked. His voice was quiet, and slightly raspy from the shouting. “You know you could get into trouble if the Commissioner finds out about this.”

“But, sir,” Jim said. “Penguin did something to Nygma. I am sure of it.”

“How?” Barnes challenged. “How can you be so sure?”

He held up his hand before Jim could argue.

“I know what you’re about to say: The riddle led you to Penguin.” he continued. “But we don’t even know who wrote it.”

“Penguin must have forced Nygma to write it down.” Jim deduced.

Barnes’ face was almost unreadable as he looked at him. He almost looked… worried? Uncertain? Jim couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“And you’re absolutely sure that no one touched the evidence?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Jim replied. “No one touched anything.”

Barnes didn’t look satisfied, nor did he look entirely convinced.

“Why would someone send this to a kid?” he wondered, changing the subject. Jim hesitated, trying to think of a reason for it.

“I don’t know.” he admitted, finally.

With an agitated wave of his hands, Barnes said:

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. But since it did, we have to assume that Wayne is being threatened. We’ll send out police officers to accompany him home.” Barnes ordered.

Jim nodded before turning to leave. Just before his hand touched the doorknob, Barnes spoke again.

“Know this, Jim.” he warned, causing Jim to turn around to look at him. “If you’re lying to me, I _will_  find out.”

_What was that supposed to mean?_

Jim decided against questioning Barnes. He was in enough trouble, already.

Without a word, Jim exited the office to meet with Lee, Harvey, Bruce and Alfred, who had been standing outside Barnes’ office for the past hour.

“We’re sending you home with police escorts, just in case.” Jim announced, resulting in a disconcerted sigh from Alfred.

Harvey called over a couple of police officers and assigned them to the protection of the young billionaire.

“Thank you, Detective.” Bruce said with a grateful smile. Jim smiled back at him and placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Bruce.” he encouraged. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

Bruce gave him a curt nod before turning to the officers, who escorted him outside.

When Bruce was out of earshot, Alfred took hold of Jim’s arm.

“If anything happens to that boy,” he warned. “I swear to God…”

“Don’t worry, sir.” Jim assured. “He’ll be safe.”

Without another word, Alfred let go of his arm and turned around to join Bruce.

* * *

 

Jim’s muscles were aching as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He opened the door to the small apartment and allowed Lee to step inside first.

The first thing that Jim noticed when he opened the door was the foul stench filling his nostrils. He couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed when he noticed Lee’s scrunched-up nose.

“Oof, smells like something’s died in here, Jim.” Lee quipped as she entered the apartment and walked to the small kitchen. She placed the bag of Chinese food on the counter before she took off her coat and threw it over the back of a chair.

“I haven’t really been here for the past weeks.” he defended. He didn’t even remember when he last cleaned out his fridge. He saw Lee beginning to rummage through his fridge and decided to try and freshen up. He took off his suit jacket and walked into his bedroom. He opened the door to his closet to dispose of his suit, longing for a pair of clean pajamas. The smell was, actually, worse in the bedroom. Jim figured the stench was already stuck in his nose, following him wherever he went.

As he reached for a hanger, his house keys fell out of his pocket and onto the floor. He bent down to pick them up and glanced underneath his bed. He froze when he noticed some discoloring on the floor. The slightly green hue reminded him of mold, but it seemed too smooth to be that. He went down on his hands and knees and looked closer to examine it further. He reached his arm underneath the bed and touched it. It was definitely not mold.

“Well, except for some moldy tomatoes and curdled milk, the fridge was surprisingly clean.” Lee announced as she walked into Jim’s bedroom. When he didn’t look up to acknowledge her, she stepped closer to him and lightly patted him on the back.

“Jim?” she inquired.

“I think there’s something under the bed.” Jim said. He rose to his feet and started moving the bed. Immediately, Lee came to his aid. Together, they pushed the bed to the opposite wall, revealing a bright green question mark. They both looked at each other in apprehension.  Now that the bed was gone, the smell became even more pungent, making their eyes water and their stomachs turn. It smelled like rotting meat and burned hair. Jim had smelled this kind of stench before, but never in his own home. He sincerely hoped it was just a mouse that had chewed through an electric line.

Jim crouched down to examine the old floorboards, now painted green. The paint had dried long ago, and it made him feel uneasy to think that someone broke into his house and did that. How long had that been there?

The floorboards were loose and creaked loudly when he pulled at them. A large cloud of dust drifted up, the particles irritating his airway and stinging his eyes. Beside him, he could hear Lee coughing. Through the coughing fits, the smell filled their nostrils one again. It was almost unbearable at this point.

When the dust had settled, they had recovered enough to look into the hole that had now formed in the floor. Jim sucked in a breath when he noticed the charred body lying in there. The arms and legs were flexed, as if prepared for a fight.

Both Jim and Lee had seen burned bodies before, but they had rarely - if ever - seen anything quite like this. The skin and most of the soft tissue was almost completely gone. Mere fragments of skin were hanging off the blackened bones. The skull had been altogether stripped of its soft tissue, so that only the scorched bones remained. Parts of the skull were fractured, revealing the roasted brain matter inside. The only thing that wasn’t scorched beyond recognition was the muddied green suit, which was partially melted into what little remained of Edward Nygma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, again, to everyone who's read, kudosed and commented. I really appreciate it :)


	5. Chapter 5

Harvey rubbed his eyes as he stifled a yawn. He was waiting for Forensics to come back with confirmation that it was, in fact, Nygma’s finger, they had in their possession. He jumped slightly when his cell phone rang loudly, cursing under his breath.

“Bullock.” he greeted wearily.

“We found Edward Nygma.” Jim announced. Harvey leapt from his seat, suddenly feeling wide awake.

“What?” he cried. “Where?”

“Under my bed.” Jim’s sullen response made Harvey’s heart sink to his stomach.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me…”

“Penguin is setting me up.” Jim stated. “It’s Penguin. It has to be.”

Harvey squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Are you sure it’s Nygma’s body?” he asked.

“He’s wearing a green suit, Harvey.” Jim explained. “We have to call it in.”

“No!” Harvey demanded, louder than he had intended. “You need to leave Gotham.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Jim argued. “That just makes me look even more guilty.”

Harvey shut his eyes and tried to think.

“Okay, stay right where you are.” he strategized. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He hung up and flipped it shut. Grabbing his hat, he turned in his chair and stood up to leave, just to be face-to-face with Captain Barnes. The betrayed look in his eyes informed Harvey that he had heard everything.

Without saying a word, Barnes gestured to Harvey to follow him. Obediently, he followed into Barnes’ office. He was starting to grow tired of being in this room. Barnes walked around the table, not taking his eyes off Harvey.

“I just got a phone call.” he announced. “Apparently, someone was complaining about a foul odor coming from Jim Gordon’s apartment.”

Harvey couldn’t even move. He felt cold dread freezing his veins, making his legs wobble.

“Do you have any clue as to why that is?” Barnes questioned. Harvey stiffly shook his head, trying to look casual.

“No idea, Cap’.” he replied, forcing his lips into a tight smile. He felt droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

For a few agonizing seconds, Barnes just stared at him, a mixture of betrayal and disappointment in his eyes. Then, he let out a deep breath and looked down, shaking his head slightly.

“You know,” he said. “I thought he was one of the good guys, Bullock.”

“Captain… I know how this looks, but…”

“There is a dead body in Jim Gordon’s apartment!” Barnes shouted. “What does that look like to you?”

Harvey didn’t know what to say. He knew it looked bad. Everything they had on Nygma’s case could be traced back to Jim. They had all been wrapped around Penguin’s finger this whole time.

“You were on the phone with him just now, weren’t you?” Barnes demanded. “What are you going to do? Help him dispose of the body? Trying to find a way to blame Penguin for this?”

Harvey couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Barnes honestly believe that _Penguin_ was the victim, here?

“Captain, Jim is innocent!” Harvey exclaimed. “Penguin is setting him up!”

“WHERE IS YOUR PROOF?” Barned bellowed, his voice reverberating across the room. He let out a defeated sigh, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Bullock.” he lowered his voice. “But you’re protecting a murderer. You leave me no other choice.”

Captain Barnes raised his head to look at Harvey, who looked at him pleadingly.

“Hand over your badge and your gun.” he ordered.

Harvey knew he had no choice. With a heavy heart, he unfastened his gun holster and his badge and placed them on the desk in front of him. Quietly, he turned around and left the room. Just before he closed the door, he heard Barnes’ authoritative voice speaking on the phone:

“Judge Baker? This is Captain Barnes. I need an arrest warrant for James Gordon.”

* * *

 

Jim and Lee sat on his bed in silence, their food long forgotten. Jim felt Lee’s fingers around his hand, holding it tightly. He realized how much he’d missed her.

“I’ve missed this.” he whispered. Lee turned to look at him.

“I don’t think this has ever happened before.” she remarked, tilting her head to the dead body on his bedroom floor. Jim couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“No, I didn’t mean that.” he said, turning to look into her eyes. “I’ve missed _you_ , Lee.”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

That was when Jim realized that he still loved her. And, as he looked into Lee’s eyes, he knew that she loved him, too. And it made his heart clench in pain. She was right there, sitting in front of him, loving him, trusting him, and he had been lying to her.

“I need to tell you something.” Jim confessed. She took hold of his hand and waited patiently.

“There’s a reason why Penguin is targeting me.” he began.

Lee nodded her head as if she already knew the answer.

“I know. Because he blames you for his son’s death.” she said. “But I know that it wasn’t your fault.”

The warm, loving smile she gave him was like a dagger in his heart. Slowly, he shook his head. He felt his eyes welling up with salty tears, blurring his vision.

“Yes, it was.” His voice grew quiet, just above a whisper. Lee’s smile faltered but she remained silent.

“I was in a relationship with Sofia Falcone.” he admitted. “I knew she was using me, but I didn’t end it.”

Lee’s smile was completely gone, now. Her face hardened at the confession, disappointment filling her features.

“The night Penguin’s son was killed.” he continued. “When Sofia had the gun pointed at him, I had a clean shot.”

“I had a chance to shoot her, but I didn’t.” His voice was starting to shake. “I was so close to pulling that trigger, but I felt that I couldn’t. And before I knew it, she had pulled the trigger and shot an innocent child.”

For a while, they could do nothing but stare at each other. Lee had let go of Jim’s hand and kept her hands folded in her lap.

Suddenly, Lee broke the silence by letting out a shaky breath.

“And Penguin found out.” she deduced. Jim nodded solemnly.

“I don’t know how, but he did.” he said.

He saw Lee’s face changing as she stared at him. He felt so exposed, like he was naked.

“You’re afraid of him.” she realized.

Jim turned away from her, focusing his eyes on the hardwood floor.

“I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me.” he confessed. “Of what he’ll do to the people I care about.”

He felt Lee’s warm hand on his own, interlacing their fingers. He looked up to see her smile, sad but warm. It made Jim’s heart flutter, knowing that there was at least one person on his side.

They both jumped when Jim’s cellphone rang. Harvey’s name came up on the screen. He flipped the phone open and placed it to his ear, allowing Lee to listen, as well.

“Harvey.” he greeted.

“Jim, you need to listen to me.” Harvey explained. “Barnes has put out a warrant for your arrest.” Jim and Lee looked at each other in worry.

“Why would he do that?” Lee asked. Deep down, they all knew the answer.

“He found out about Nygma’s body.” Harvey bemoaned. “He’s convinced you killed him. I tried to talk him out of it, but he took by badge and my gun.”

“But Jim didn’t do anything.” Lee cried. “Penguin’s setting him up.”

“There’s more evidence leading to me than to Penguin.” Jim reasoned. “He’s probably been planning this the whole time.”

“Listen,” Harvey voiced. “You need to leave Gotham. Barnes is calling out a unit to your place.”

“No.” Jim denied. “I need to find Penguin. Maybe I can talk to him.”

“Are you insane?” Harvey exclaimed. “You’ll be on your own. It’s suicide.”

“I’m not leaving Gotham.” Jim raised his voice. “And if there’s any chance of setting things right, I’m taking it.”

Harvey let out an exasperated sigh before going quiet. No one said a word for a while.

“What do you need me to do, partner?” Harvey finally said.

* * *

 

After hanging up, Jim rose to his feet and threw his suit jacket over his shoulders.

“Let me come with you.” Lee said, standing as well.

“No, it’s too dangerous.” Jim argued.

“Then why are _you_ going?” she pressed.

Jim gave her a hopeless look.

“What choice do I have?”

Lee looked at him for a moment before taking her car keys out of her pocket and handing them to Jim.

“Take my car.” she offered. “The police are probably looking for yours.”

Jim accepted her keys, giving her a longing look before turning around and exiting the apartment.

Lee waited before Jim had driven away before marching out of the apartment, picking up her coat and Jim’s spare car keys on her way out.

It had started raining. Big fat drops fell on Lee’s head as she stepped out onto the street. She got into Jim’s car and turned the key in its ignition.

“…at the site of a car crash near Wayne Manor.” A news anchor’s voice crackled on the radio. Lee had moved to switch off the radio but stopped when she heard the words ‘Wayne manor’. With her fingers hovering over the dial, she listened intently as the news anchor continued.

“According to officers, three people have been pronounced dead at the scene. However, they would not confirm whether or not young billionaire, Bruce Wayne, was among the casualties.”

Lee felt a whirlwind of emotions crashing into her like a wave. The thought of Bruce Wayne, dead in the backseat of some car…she couldn’t bear it. _How would Jim take it?_

Lee felt anger taking over her entire body at the thought of Penguin having something to do with this. It had to be him. Of course, _who else could it be?_

She switched off the radio and drove off. Her anger kept escalating as she drove through the streets of Gotham City. Eventually, she gave in to it.

It was bad enough that Edward was dead because of Penguin, and that Jim was being painted as the villain. But by killing Bruce Wayne, Penguin had crossed the line.

He needed to pay for what he had done.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after this chapter, shit is gonna go down! Thanks for reading :)


	6. Chapter 6

Harvey had had enough of this. It was bad enough that Penguin had blackmailed, bribed and threatened his way out of Arkham, tortured and killed Edward Nygma and stolen Sofia Falcone’s dead body. But that little weasel had gone too far when he framed Jim Gordon for murder. Harvey was going to clear Jim’s name, even if he needed to tear every single one of Penguin’s properties down, brick by brick. And he knew just where to start.

Harvey knocked on the large wooden door. The van Dahl mansion looked deserted, no lights shone through the windows and silence seeped through its walls. He tried the doorknob and was surprised to feel the door opening with a loud creak. With a gulp, Harvey stepped into the vast front hall, complete darkness surrounding him. He kept reminding himself of the endgame: Clear Jim’s name, take down The Penguin. A win-win situation.

He reached for his gun when he heard a sound from somewhere in the house, only to be reminded of its absence. He treaded carefully further down the hall, towards the source of the sound. His heart hammered in his chest as he rounded the corner and saw Penguin standing proudly, with his back turned to Harvey, with a glass of red wine in hand.

“Where’s your army?” Harvey’s loud, derisive voice didn’t seem to startle Penguin. He merely turned his head a bit, before putting his glass down on the marble kitchen counter.

“I sent them home.” he replied, turning to face Harvey. “I don’t recall saying you could come in, Detective.”

“Sorry about that.” Harvey said, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I would pop by.”

Penguin raised his eyebrow, chuckling lightly.

“Of course.” he said, limping to the cabinet before taking out a clean wine glass. He poured a generous amount of red wine into the glass and offered it to Harvey. He took it and sipped, feeling the velvety liquid running smoothly down his throat. He had to admit that Penguin had impeccable taste in alcohol. He raised his glass in thanks, receiving a raised glass in return. They both took a sip before placing them on the counter.

“So,” Penguin voiced. “Why are you really here?”

Harvey took a step closer to the short man.

“You know, it’s funny.” he began. “You’ve achieved so much in the last few years.”

Penguin eyed him curiously but allowed him to continue.

“I mean, just a few years ago, you were Fish Mooney’s umbrella boy.” Penguin’s face fell, his beady eyes looking at him in resentment. “But, now, look at you!”

Harvey waved his hands, eyeing him from head to toe. His black hair was expertly combed and styled, his crisp white shirt had embroidered umbrellas on the cuffs, next to the emerald cufflinks. His purple tie was tucked into his black silk waistcoat.

“And to think that this almost never happened.” he cried out. Penguin’s annoyance turned to confusion.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. Harvey looked pointedly at him.

“You see, if it weren’t for Jim Gordon,” he replied. “You’d be dead a long time ago.”

Penguin’s eyes narrowed as his lips pressed together into a thin, white line.

“He spared your life on that pier, and this is how you repay him?” he said accusingly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Penguin stated, turning away from Harvey.

“Oh, I think you do.” Harvey argued. He stepped closer until he was right behind him. “I know you killed Edward Nygma.” he whispered.

“You’re going away for a long time for what you’ve done.”

The sounds of someone entering the kitchen made Harvey look away from Penguin. He felt his blood run cold when he saw who it was.

_Oh god, no._

Penguin used his chance to grab the wine bottle by the neck, swinging it until it crashed on the side of Harvey’s head, the bottle shattering with the impact. With a pained groan, Harvey stumbled away from him, falling to the floor. Penguin turned around to grab a knife from the knife holder. A kick to his shins made him fall to his knees, sending a wave of pain to his bad leg.

Harvey used his opportunity to kick Penguin in the face, pushing as much force into his kick as he could. He smirked when Penguin fell hard on his back, a cut on his lower lip reddening his teeth with blood.

Before he could truly revel in the injury he had caused, he felt Penguin’s foot connecting harshly with his groin, sending a wave of pain to his abdomen which forced him to his knees. Penguin scrambled to his knees while yanking the refrigerator door open, satisfied with the resulting crunch as it collided with Harvey’s nose. Pulling himself on his feet, Penguin leaned against the kitchen counter, grabbing hold of a meat cleaver. As he turned around, he pushed all his weight forward as he swung the meat cleaver towards Harvey, missing him by mere inches.

Having recovered, Harvey grabbed Penguin by his shoulders and pushed him to the floor, straddling him. Being both taller and heavier than Penguin, Harvey had no trouble overpowering him. He circled his calloused hands around his thin neck, squeezing tightly. Penguin’s eyes widened as he started gasping for air, clawing, hitting, kicking.  

But Harvey didn’t release his hold on Penguin’s throat, ignoring his attempts to free himself. The hold tightened even more as Harvey stared at his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his arms falling to his sides. His legs stopped kicking around and went still.

Still holding onto Penguin’s neck, Harvey leaned down, his ear to his mouth, to check if he was breathing. He felt searing pain as Penguin plunged a piece of glass into his neck, spewing warm blood over them both. Yelling out in pain, Harvey released his grip before crashing against the wall opposite the kitchen island. His hands flew up to his wound, blood flowing from between his fingers. Penguin struggled to sit up as he violently coughed, spraying blood from his lip over the kitchen floor. After recovering, he rose to his feet, grabbing a large kitchen knife that had fallen to the floor during the fight.

The look on his face sent cold shivers down Harvey's spine. He finally realized why even the most cold-blooded criminals in Gotham trembled at Penguin's feet and begged for their lives. He had witnessed it before, but being the recipient was so much worse than being just an observer. In that moment, Penguin didn't look human. He looked like a terrible predator, waiting for the right moment to sink his teeth into his prey.

Knowing what was about to happen, Harvey crawled to an adjacent room. The door was open, right beside where he had been sitting on the floor. After crawling inside, he kicked the door closed just before Penguin threw himself onto it with an animalistic snarl. It shook with the impact of Penguin’s body colliding with the wood. Harvey turned so that his back was against the door, barricading it with his own body.

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against the wound, the glass still embedded in it. He felt the blood soaking through the handkerchief in mere seconds. White spots started dotting his vision and he could taste iron on his tongue. He needed help, now.

The door pressed painfully against his back whenever Penguin threw himself against it. He could hear Penguin’s strained breaths from beyond the door. Harvey pulled out his phone and dialed Jim’s number. His limbs were getting tired, arms shaking with the mere effort of holding them up. It was starting to feel difficult to breathe properly.

Seconds turned to minutes – though it felt like hours - and Jim wasn’t picking up. Harvey started wondering if he was truly going to die like this, bleeding to death in Penguin’s fucking pantry. But he felt so tired, his head hurt, and he just wanted to sleep. He felt his vision going in and out of focus as the rhythmic sounds of the dial tone lulled him into a weird sense of comfort.


	7. Chapter 7

Lee Thompkins walked up to the van Dahl mansion, her gun at the ready. The plan was simple: Find Penguin and kill him.

However, she stopped in her tracks as she saw the front door wide open. She felt in her gut that something was wrong. Slowly – too slowly – she treaded into the dim front hall, dread seeping through her body like the rain outside.

A loud thud from inside the house made her jump, she felt as if her heart was bursting out of her chest. Cringing as her wet shoes squealed against the hardwood floor, she followed the sound and saw The Penguin standing in the kitchen. His signature suit jacket was gone and his once-crisp white shirt was drenched in blood. A faint kitchen light made the blood dripping down his chin gleam, making him look more ferocious than Lee had ever seen him before. The knife in his hand glistened as he limped around the kitchen, breathing heavily. Lee shuddered as he suddenly pushed himself against a closed door, resulting in a sickening crack coming from the door. Due to his short stature and his ruined leg, everyone always underestimated Penguin‘s strength. Lee reminded herself to never make that mistake again, if she were to survive tonight.

“Penguin.” she said, hating herself for allowing him to hear the tremor in her voice. He turned around, his cold eyes piercing through Lee. She held up her gun and aimed it at his chest.

 “Who’s in there?” she whispered.

“Detective Bullock.” he whispered back. He leaned towards her, almost as if mocking her.

“What did you do to him?” Lee felt tears stinging her eyes, blurring her vision, but she forced them back. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“I did exactly what he” he said, pointing the tip of the knife towards the door, “was planning on doing to me.”

He stepped one step closer to Lee, and she took a step back.

“Don’t come any closer!” she shouted. Penguin looked at her as if he almost pitied her.

“I know you didn’t ask for any of this, Lee.” he murmured. “So, I’m giving you one chance. Walk away.” 

His warning was not enough to dissuade her.  Carefully, yet forcefully, she pulled the hammer down on her pistol.  A loud clack resonated through the silent room.

“You killed Ed.” she said through gritted teeth.

Oswald simply tilted his head, an unreadable look on his hardened face.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’, then.” he said.

He took another step towards Lee and she pulled the trigger, preparing herself for the loud bang as the bullet would fly out of the pistol. Terror washed over her like billowing water when the only sound coming from the gun was a loud click. It was empty. In her anger-driven hurry, she hadn’t even thought of checking for bullets.

 _You idiot,_ Lee cursed herself.

She stared at Penguin as realization dawned on them both, her horror-stricken eyes meeting his triumphant ones. His lips curled up into a sneer, revealing his blood-stained teeth.

Lee looked at the man in front of her, looking ready to attack. She needed to get out. Maybe she could call for help.

Making her decision, she turned on her heels and ran out of the kitchen, down the corridor and towards the front door. She turned the knob and felt the air leave her lungs when it wouldn’t budge. Someone had locked the door.

She felt panic take over her as she ran up the stairs and towards the first door she saw. She didn’t care what was behind it, she just needed a way out. An exasperated sound escaped her lips when that door wouldn’t budge either. She ran from door to door, all of them locked securely. At this point, she didn’t care how loud she was, all that went through her head was: _Get out! Get out! Get out!_

When she grabbed the doorknob on the final door, at the end of the hallway, she couldn’t help the shaky laugh from escaping when it clicked, and the door opened with a creak.

 She rushed inside the room, not even bothering to look around before she slammed the door shut and locked it, momentarily shielding her from the immediate danger of Penguin. She turned around and walked straight into the arms of Bruce Wayne.

Tears were streaming down Bruce’s cheeks and a small cut adorned his cheekbone. He was shaking like a leaf, staring wide-eyed at her.

“Bruce?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

When he didn’t reply, Lee placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and forced an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here.” she assured.

She passed Bruce and looked around the dark room. Except for herself and Bruce, it seemed empty. Only the exquisite furniture, covered in white sheets, indicated that the room had ever even been used. Lee rushed to the large French window and glanced outside. It was quite a jump from the window but perhaps the bushes underneath would soften their fall. Or perhaps, she could make a rope out of these sheets…

A sudden rustle behind startled her and made her turn around. She swore that her heart stopped for a moment when she saw the tall figure emerging from the shadows. All she could do was stare as he approached her until they were toe-to-toe.

“Ed…?” she whispered, “How…?”

He simply let out a sigh and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lee.” he whispered. Before Lee could decipher his words, even before the shock had settled, she felt Ed’s hands on her shoulders and the sudden impact of glass breaking against her back.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Bruce staring at her, mouth agape in horror. And then, she saw nothing but the night sky above her, a crescent moon hiding behind the dark clouds. She felt the air depart her lungs as she fell, as if in slow-motion. She almost felt as if she were floating through the air. Tiny fragments of broken glass were glistening around her, blending in with the raindrops. Suddenly, she felt her body breaking as it collided with the cobblestones below.

 

* * *

 

Captain Barnes was in Jim Gordon’s bedroom with the M.E., not knowing what to make of the scene in front of him.The suit, of course, was a strong indicator of whose body this was. However, the body would have to be examined for identification – what was left of it, anyway. 

But Barnes couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. 

“No sign of erythema or redness.” the M.E. reported as she lay crouched over the body, examining the skull. “Some flaking on the temporal and parietal lobes.”

“Huh.” she said suddenly, catching Barnes’ interest.

“What is it?” he asked.

She answered by pointing at a small hole in the skull.

“Difficult to say for certain, but it looks like a bullet hole, to me.” she said. “My guess is that he was shot and that the burning was done post-mortem.”

Barnes watched as she turned her attention to the arms and hands. She examined all ten fingers, the charred muscles hanging off the bones. That was when Barnes realized it.

“Wait, wait, wait.” he voiced, causing the M.E. to look at him curiously. “Edward Nygma was missing a finger.”

Realization dawned on her as she quickly turned her gaze to the hands she was holding.

“But…” she asked. “Who’s this, then?”

Her question was partially answered when she looked over the clothed torso. At the angle she was, she could vaguely see a cream-colored piece of paper, peaking out of the suit’s breast pocket. She pulled it out and was astonished to see that the paper was in pristine condition. It must have been put there after the burning. She unfolded it and read aloud:

 

_A father’s child,_

_a mother’s child,_

_yet no one’s son._

_What am I?_

 

As soon as he heard the riddle, Barnes knew the answer.

“A daughter.” he answered. “The answer is daughter.”

And he was pretty sure he knew whose daughter this was.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Jim stepped into the Iceberg Lounge expecting a hailstorm of bullets from Penguin’s goons. So, it surprised and unsettled him when he realized the Lounge was completely empty, the lights dimmed and the silence suffocating. Penguin wasn’t here. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a look around.

He walked up the stairs, approaching Penguin’s office. He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned. It was unlocked. He peeked into the dark room and saw that it was empty. He rushed over to Penguin’s desk and switched on the lamp on top of it.

The usually neat desk was littered with stacks of papers, light-brown folders and photographs.

He picked up the folder closest to him and scanned through it. It contained what looked like descriptions of himself and his activities for the past few weeks. The photographs were of him at various locations. In his car, at a crime scene, at the G.C.P.D., in front of Sofia Falcone’s house, with Sofia in Miami…

It gave him chills. Somehow, Penguin had managed to dig up everything about Jim Gordon and been able to follow his every move without anyone noticing it. How long had this been going on? How much did Penguin know?

“He’s not here.”

The sudden voice made Jim’s heart leap out of his chest. He jumped out of the chair and turned around to see Victor Zsasz leaning nonchalantly against a bookshelf. In the darkness of the room, Jim hadn’t even noticed him. _Since when was he working for Penguin again?_

“Has Penguin been spying on me?” he demanded, holding up the file he’d been reading.

“It’s rude to sneak into other people’s offices, you know.” Victor quipped.

Jim felt the frustration bubbling up inside of him.

“How long has this been going on?” he questioned through gritted teeth. Victor simply shrugged his shoulders.

“A month, maybe?” he estimated. “Maybe a month and a half. But we managed to dig up a _lot_ of dirt. You’ve been very naughty, Jim.”

A teasing smirk ran across Victor’s lips. Jim felt like he was being mocked, which he probably was.

“Where is he?” Jim asked.

“At his house. He doesn’t live _here_ , you know.” Victor replied as crossed his arms. Jim noticed a couple of new cuts on his bare arm amid an array of old scars.

“I need to talk to him.” he said. The smirk reappeared on Victor’s face.

“He’s a little busy at the moment.” he said.

“What does he want?” Jim asked.

When he didn’t get a reply, he strode across the office and went right up to Victor.

“What does he _want_ from me?” he pressed.

Victor stared intently at Jim, making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you go and ask him?” he drawled.  Watching his back, Jim walked away from Victor, crossing the room towards the door.

“Oh!” Victor called after him. “And say “Hi” to Harvey, for me!”

Jim felt his heart sink as he deciphered Victor’s words.

As soon as he was out of Victor’s sight, he quickened his pace to a run, hoping it was not too late.

* * *

 

Jim pulled up to the van Dahl mansion and jumped out of the car, storming up to the house. He almost didn’t notice the body lying on the ground. The air escaped his lungs when he looked down and saw her, her chest heaved in shallow breaths and her limbs were at odd angles. He crouched over her and placed his hands on her cheeks, cupping her face.

“Lee?”

“Jim,” she gasped out.  “Jim…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jim interrupted, needing her to save her strength. He fished for his phone, only to realize that he didn’t have it on him. He needed a phone. He needed to call for help.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked Lee while searching through her pockets. “I need to call an ambulance.”

His voice was trembling as he searched for Lee’s phone. Her pockets were empty.

“Jim…” Lee struggled the words out, trying to calm him down.

“Hang in there, Lee,” he soothed. “I just need to find a phone, and then you´ll be okay.  Just hang in there.” He took a quick glance around to see the open front door. There must be a phone inside. He turned back to Lee, unwilling to leave her side.

“Go.” She smiled weakly at him. Jim crouched down to kiss her gently on the lips.

“I’ll come back to you,” he whispered before standing, withdrawing his gun from his holster as he rushed into the house.

* * *

 Jim stepped into the kitchen, his gun raised and his heart beating loudly. The kitchen was a mess, broken glass littered the hardwood floor and a large meat cleaver emerged from the refrigerator door. Jim cast his eyes to the floor and sucked in a breath when he noticed the rapidly growing pool of blood seeping from underneath the closed door. _Harvey._

“OSWALD!” he shouted. The yell echoed through the seemingly empty mansion.

He swiftly turned around when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him, raising his gun. He sucked in a breath and lowered his gun when he saw Bruce Wayne standing before him.

_No, no, no, he’s not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be safe. What is he doing here?_

“Bruce…” Jim’s voice was a mere whisper as he observed the young boy in front of him.

The boy didn’t say anything, too scared to even move.

Then, out of the shadows, a tall figure entered the kitchen and stood right behind Bruce. Jim’s jaw dropped when he recognized the man.

“Ed?” he gasped. Ed replied with a closed lipped smile.

“Hello, Jim.” he said. “Put the gun down, please.”

Jim tightened his hold on his gun, raising it slightly towards Ed.

“No fucking way.” he denied, resulting in a disappointed sigh from the other man.

In one smooth movement, Ed had flicked open his knife and raised it to Bruce’s throat. The boy was shaking terribly as Ed wrapped his free arm around him, shielding himself from Jim’s bullets.

“How about now?” he asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically. Jim’s shoulders slumped in defeat before he slowly lowered his gun to the ground and kicked it away from him.

“Good.” Ed said triumphantly. “That’s better.”

“Where’s Oswald?” Jim demanded.

A malicious smile crept up Ed’s lips as he looked past Jim, answering his question.

Jim felt as if his insides were coiling up inside him as dreadful fear seethed in his stomach. He forced himself to slowly turn around to face Penguin. He stood frozen as they stared at each other, his fervent eyes meeting Oswald’s cold ones.

“Oswald…” he began. This was possibly the first time Jim was truly afraid of him.

He had always been able to see Oswald behind The Penguin, always been able to see the vulnerable, sniveling umbrella boy behind the cold exterior of the King of Gotham. Now, Oswald was nowhere to be found and the emotionless face of a ruthless, cold-blooded murderer was all that remained.

“Please. Let Bruce go. He has nothing to do with this.” he pleaded. “He’s innocent.”

“So was Martin.” Saying Martin’s name caused a tiny crack to form in The Penguin’s face, allowing Oswald’s vulnerability to peek through.

“I’m sorry.” was all that Jim could say. _Did I ever even apologize for it?_ he wondered.

Oswald sighed and placed his hand gently on Jim’s shoulder. In that moment, he looked so vulnerable, almost like a child.

Jim saw Oswald disappear behind The Penguin the moment he felt a sharp stab in his abdomen. He let out a pained grunt as he grabbed onto Penguin’s blood-soaked shirt. Jim felt the curved blade being twisted in his abdomen, causing him to cry out in agony. He felt his organs ripping apart as Penguin pulled the blade out, hushing him soothingly as he kept him from collapsing to the floor.

“I’m sorry, too.” Penguin whispered. “But I just couldn’t let you get away with this.”

Jim looked down to see blood seeping through his shirt and staining the floor a deep-red color. He was shaking vigorously, and his knees felt weak, just barely able to hold his body up.

“Look at me,” Penguin’s order made Jim look up. He was chuckling, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I tried to be your friend, Jim. I really did.” he admitted, bitterness seeping through his voice. “I thought I could mean something to you. But I never did.”

Oswald’s face scrunched up as he pushed Jim away from his embrace, causing Jim to sink to the floor.

He pressed his hands to the gaping hole in his abdomen, feeling warm blood seep through his fingers. Penguin pulled at his hair painfully, forcing him to look up at him.

“Don’t you see?” he continued. “I offered you a rare gift. And you tossed it aside like it meant nothing.”

“But it did, Oswald.” Jim replied. Penguin’s face hardened before Jim felt a stinging slap on his cheek.

“No, it didn’t. Not to you. You only cared about the information I had, the help I could give so you didn’t have to work as hard,” Penguin spat. “That’s not what caring for someone means, Jim.”

Jim felt his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier by the minute, his vision turning blurry. He could feel his intestines slipping, his hands being the only barrier holding them inside. He was jolted awake with another stinging slap across his cheek.

“I trusted you, Jim.” Oswald’s voice cracked with emotion. “And you locked me up like an animal! I gave up my freedom for you – twice! I killed for you. I risked my life for you. And when I needed you – when _Martin_ needed you – you weren’t there. I lost the only person I cared about because you weren’t there.”

“I’m sor…” a wet cough interrupted Jim’s apology. He could taste the iron in his mouth and felt the warm substance leaking out of his mouth.

Penguin chuckled bitterly.

“No, you’re not.” he said accusingly. He stood up, ignoring the pain it sent down his bad leg. “But you will be.”

He walked towards Ed, who removed his knife from Bruce’s throat. Jim felt a relief wash over him, seeing that Bruce wasn’t being threatened anymore.

In one fell swoop, Penguin lifted his own knife and plunged it into Bruce’s throat. Bruce gasped and sunk his fingernails into Ed’s forearm from the shock of pain.

Jim screamed, despair lighting every single synapse in his body, as Penguin yanked the knife out of the wound. The curved blade ripped through Bruce’s throat, blood spurting out of the wound over everyone and everything in the room.

Ed let go of Bruce and let him fall to the floor, gasping for air and trying in vain to hold his hands over the gaping wound. Without casting a glance at Jim, Ed and Penguin stepped over the struggling boy and left the room.

As the heavy footsteps faded, Jim crawled over to Bruce, reaching to press his hand onto the wound on his throat while trying to hold his own organs inside of him. He felt the blood spurt out from between his fingers and he knew that Penguin had severed an artery. He would bleed out in seconds.

Jim felt his hand slipping on the blood as black spots started dotting his vision. He was tired, so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

He didn’t have the strength to hold on as he felt his hand starting to slip from Bruce’s throat. All he could do was to grip tightly onto the boy’s woolen sweater as he heard the desperate gasps turning into soft gurgles.

They held onto each other, as if silently pleading to each other not to die, while the darkness slowly consumed them.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Oswald’s leg sent a surge of agony through his nervous system with every step he took as he limped through the mansion, with Ed by his side. His throat ached and he was certain that purple marks were already starting to form around his neck. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, but he soldiered on as he walked through his home for the last time in a while.

Oswald picked up his cane before they exited the house and stepped out onto the steps outside. They both let out a sigh of relief when they felt fat raindrops falling onto their faces. Oswald closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling the sting from the cut on his bottom lip, feeling the blood blending with the rain and trickling down his face.

Ed looked at him and couldn’t help but smile. For the past few weeks, Oswald had been unlike himself, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reached out his hand and took Oswald’s. He felt a tiny pang of soreness in his bandaged hand, but he paid no attention to it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Oswald opened his eyes and looked up at Ed. He felt as if his anger and his sorrow had melted away, leaving him with a sense of bittersweet closure. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. He gave him a tired smile and nodded.

“Thank you, Ed.” he said, squeezing Ed’s hand. “For everything.”

This never would have happened without Edward’s help. When he had come to visit him at Arkham all those weeks ago – it felt more like months ago – Oswald had been skeptical, to say the least. Defeated and grieving, he had been expecting more betrayal from anyone who contacted him. He’d been convinced that Ed was spying on him for Lee. With time, however, he realized that Edward was genuinely trying to help.

When he sacrificed his own finger for their plan, his loyalty was cemented. And now, Edward was the only person Oswald knew he could trust wholeheartedly. It felt good to be able to trust someone.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Oswald.” Ed replied matter-of-factly.

They beamed at each other for a moment before a strained breath reminded them that they weren’t alone. They looked down to see Lee Thompkins’ broken body before him.

Ed let go of Oswald’s hand and stepped closer to her. She stared up at him hatefully.

“I need you to know, Lee,” he said. “that I _am_ sorry about this. I really am. But you really shouldn’t have come here.”

Without sparing her another look, he and Oswald walked past her, ignoring her pained whimpers. Their shoes and Oswald’s cane clicked loudly against the wet cobblestones as they walked towards Lee’s car. The key was still in the ignition, making this so much easier for them. When they had adjusted themselves in their seats, Ed turned the key and the motor roared to life. After all the crimes they’d committed tonight, they figured that a stolen car was just a small addition to their resumés. Besides, they had a plane to catch.

* * *

  ** _Two weeks later_**

“Let’s see.” Captain Barnes pondered. “What’s been going on?”

“Sofia Falcone has been buried.” he reported. “A week ago, actually. Alfred Pennyworth’s funeral was two days ago.”

Barnes shifted in his uncomfortable seat, reluctant to say his next words.

“The memorial service for Bruce Wayne will be on Friday.” he said solemnly. “And the service for Harvey Bullock was last Wednesday.”

Lee Thompkins didn’t say anything. In fact, she didn’t even look at him.

“Jim’s doing okay.” he continued, trying to change the subject to anything else than whoever they had to bury next. “His wound is healing up nicely, apparently, and he’s starting to be able to eat solid food. But he still won’t accept crisis counselling.”

Barnes looked over Lee’s broken body.

“And neither will you, I’ve heard.” he said.

Lee turned to him with a harsh look on her face, still not saying anything.

It didn’t take a psychologist to realize that she wasn’t okay, Barnes knew that. Of course, she wasn’t. Being forced to lie down for weeks because of her shattered pelvis, the still-unanswered question of whether she would ever even walk again, losing her friends in a horrific way; no one would be okay after something like that.

But Barnes also knew that she didn’t want to be pitied. She wanted the sons of bitches who did this to her to be found and she wanted them to pay for what they did.

“We still haven’t been able to track down Penguin and Nygma…”

“That wasn’t Ed.” Lee said, catching Barnes off guard.

“But…” he said. “You said that he…”

“Ed would never have pushed me out the window.” Lee argued. “No, _that_ , was the Riddler.”

* * *

Jim Gordon lay in the hospital bed he’d been calling his home for two weeks. When he first woke up after more than three hours of surgery, he genuinely thought he had died and that he was in some strange afterlife. But, no. He had survived.

But those two weeks at the hospital had been tortuous, to say the least. The ache in his abdomen was held down by painkillers, but it was always there, someplace where his spleen used to be. Initially, he’d been fed through a tube, his bowels unable to work properly after the trauma. He’d felt completely useless, as he needed help to do everything. At first, he’d hated it but by now, he’d learned to accept it. The feeling of embarrassment whenever someone needed to bathe him, help him eat or change his stoma bag was long gone. It was just part of his daily routine, at this point. But all of that was far from being the worst part of his recovery. The worst part was the fact that he was still alive.

Every single night, he would wake up in cold sweats, a broken sob ripping through his throat. Every night, his mind would project images of Harvey, bleeding to death in Penguin’s kitchen, with a glass wall preventing Jim from coming to his rescue. He would see Oswald stabbing him again and again while staring at him with a malicious look in his eyes. He would see Bruce lying on the floor, gasping for air, and there’d be nothing Jim could do as he watched him bleed to death.

And every waking moment, Jim would ask himself why _he_ survived and not Bruce or Harvey. Why was he still here, recovering at the hospital, while they were being prepared to be put in the ground. He wondered if Oswald had felt the same way after Martin died. He wondered if he _still_ felt that way, or if the feeling would ever go away.

* * *

 

The midday sun shone brightly on the cobblestone streets, making the Arno river glisten as it flowed through the city. The streets were bustling with people, tourists feasting their eyes on the centuries-old buildings and monuments, children splashing around in the fountains, street artists singing operatic arias to the swarm of people. No one paid any notice to the two men sitting outside a café near Piazza della Signoria. The shorter man, wearing a navy blue, perfectly tailored suit, swirled a glass of red wine around in his hand. The other one, clad in a white shirt and deep green dress pants, had his nose buried in a newspaper.

Around them, church bells could be heard, followed by the fluttering of doves’ wings.

A part of Oswald missed Gotham. It was his home. But he knew, when he was planning his revenge, he would have to leave Gotham. And if it meant making Jim Gordon suffer, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He figured that he would return someday, when the time was right. But right now, he was here, sitting in the sun in a beautiful city, one he’d always wanted to visit, with the only person he had left sitting opposite him.

“What are you so interested in?” Oswald asked as he poked at Edward’s forearm. Edward flipped the newspaper around with a smirk on his face.

Oswald did not seem as impressed as he read the title of the article:

**Chi sono i Mostri di Firenze?**

Oswald looked up at Ed’s giddy face, perking up one eyebrow quizzically.

“Who are the Monsters of Florence?” Ed translated, making Oswald’s eyes light up.

Oswald tilted his head, pretending to decide whether he liked their new nicknames or not.

“I must admit,” he said after a few moments. “it does have a nice ring to it.”

Ed’s smile widened at his words.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Oswald lifted his wine glass, Edward lifting his own glass shortly after.

“To us.” Oswald suggested

“To us.” Edward replied, as they clinked their glasses together.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented and kudos-ed my story. As I've said before, this is my first fic in a while, so thank you for being nice :)   
> I hope you've had as much reading this as I've had writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a while, so I apologize for any logical or grammatical errors :)


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